


this feels like a dream (yet you are here with me)

by SunlightFawkes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightFawkes/pseuds/SunlightFawkes
Summary: Hermione Granger thought she had her life planned out: get married, have kids, live a quiet and happy life.Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan.After Ron is killed on an Auror mission eight years after the Final Battle, she is broken and lost.Now all she wants to do is find somewhere where she can give herself time.Widowed after Bill Weasley lost his life in the Final Battle, Fleur Delacour offers solace in the form of a stay at Shell Cottage, which is exactly what Hermione thinks she needs.As time passes, the two grow closer than they ever thought possible, learning more about life, love, and each other in the process.





	1. january

**RON WEASLEY DEAD AT 25 AFTER AUROR MISSION GONE WRONG**

Auror Ron Weasley has died at St. Mungo’s after a miscast spell had backfired. He was known best as a member of the Golden Trio along with best friend Harry Potter and the longtime boyfriend of Hermione Granger. He leaves behind his parents Molly and Arthur Weasley, his brothers Percy, Charlie, and George (older brother Bill died eight years ago in the Second Wizarding War, shortly after his wedding to Fleur Delacour); sister Ginny Weasley and soon-to-be brother-in-law Harry Potter. The two are set to wed later this year.  


There were rumors of an engagement between Ron and longtime-girlfriend Hermione Granger, but those reports were never confirmed.  


No word yet on how Miss Granger is taking the news . . .

  
  


Whispers were heard throughout the Three Broomsticks. The news of Ron Weasley’s death was spreading quickly, although one young witch was not privy to the whispers and the stares.

“She’s doing _very_ well, if she says so herself,” Hermione Granger muttered to no one, not realizing how slurred her words were as she slapped the paper down on the rickety wooden table in front of her. 

The table moved and her drink, a glass filled to the brim with Firewhisky, sloshed over the top and spilled onto the paper, staining the moving picture of Ron and Hermione’s smiling faces.

The last picture of the two of them together.

Ron had passed the week before; _The Daily Prophet_ was the first thing that Hermione saw when she opened the front door on that chilly December morning, the picture a glaring reminder of the events of the day before. She carried it with her every day since, despite having read the article so many times that she had it memorized.

She flipped the paper over so she wouldn’t have to look at the photo and downed her drink, knowing that Madam Rosmerta, the landlady and barmaid, would more than likely cut her off after this as she had been sitting here all day, crying and drinking Firewhisky. She felt numb to everything except the alcohol burning down her throat, although after a while, Hermione felt numb to that as well.

Luckily, she’d been able to take time off from her job at the Ministry to deal with the aftermath of Ron’s death, hence why she was sitting at the Three Broomsticks, drinking Firewhisky after Firewhisky, and not in her office.

Madam Rosmerta stopped at her table. Hermione looked up from where she’d been toying with the sleeve of her shirt, eyes glossy. 

The older witch sighed and shook her head, took the recently empty glass and walked away without a word. She came back minutes later with a pitcher of water and another empty glass.

“Here you go, dear. Do you want me to get this out of your way, as well?” she asked gently, pointing to that week’s issue of the _Prophet_, still turned over and dotted with tears and splashes of alcohol.

“’Tis fine,” Hermione answered, waving her hand dismissively. 

She’d never been the best at holding down hard liquor, given that she never partook when she was at Hogwarts and thus had never built up any sort of tolerance to it. She didn’t really think about how much she’s had to drink and hadn’t even considered how the hell she would get home, especially in this state.

The thought of going back home, alone, to the home that she and Ron shared, was enough to start the tears again.

“Drink some water, it will help. The bathroom’s right through those doors,” Madam Rosmerta paused and gestured to a set of swinging double doors, “should you need it. And if you’d like anything else, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” the other witch slurred, dipping her head in acknowledgement of the other witch’s words.

She was left alone after that and debated drinking water before realizing that her throat was so dry from all of the crying. 

When she swallowed, her throat hurt, so she set her head in her hands. The tears had since dried on her cheeks and when she pressed the tips of her fingers to her eyes, there were no more tears, but her eyelids felt swollen. 

Hermione decided to head off to the bathroom to wash her face. When she stood up, she stumbled and fell back in her chair, chuckling to herself. Trying again, she managed to stumble her way to the bathroom, careening towards the door as she pushed it open, not thinking to lock it behind her.

The overhead light was dim, casting shadows on the burgundy walls of the small room. There was a sink directly in front of where she stood now – _is it supposed to be spinning?_ – with a single stall to her right. 

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she saw that her cheeks were red and the sparkle that normally shone in her chocolate eyes was not there. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting the way that her mouth was turned down at the edges, set in a deep frown.

It was then she made her way over to the stall and threw up the contents of her stomach – which, admittedly, wasn’t much, as she hadn’t eaten all day – into the toilet. Hermione leaned against the wall, knees drawn up her chest as she rested her chin on them. Throwing up all of the Firewhisky she’d consumed over the course of the day made her feel only a little bit better, until she realized the reasoning behind her getting so drunk that she had to throw up.

_Ron_.

The edges of her vision blurred as fresh tears sprung to her eyes.

Hermione walked through the door the last Tuesday in December, which had been a frigid and stressful day. Ron was always home right before her, so she often met him in the doorway, his shoes untied but still on his feet as he pecked her cheek.

_That day, she assumed, would be no different._

_All she had thought about as she sat in her office was how badly she’d like to be at home with Ron. They could be sitting next to each other on the couch, as long as they were together, she would be happy, content even._

_Instead, not an hour after the door shut behind her, there came a knock. She turned around to open it, was grinning as she thought it was Ron playing a trick on her, as he had sometimes liked to do._

_It wasn’t Ron. An Auror co-worker of her boyfriend’s that she vaguely recognized was stood in front of her, a stony expression on his face._

_“Miss Granger,” he greeted with a nod._

_Hermione opened the door to let him in even as her stomach sank with worry. Her mind whirred with possibilities as to why it wasn’t Ron standing in front of her now._

_“There’s been an accident, and Ron is in St. Mungo’s,” the man continued, stepping into the foyer._

_At that, her heart pounded._

_There was a misfired curse, he explained, that had hit Ron in the chest, rendering him unconscious. It wasn’t until the mission was over that someone realized that Ron was still on the ground._

_She Apparated to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries several minutes later and was permitted to see Ron immediately._

_A few hours later, he still hadn’t woken up. Hermione was at Ron Weasley’s bedside as he took his last breath. The tears wouldn’t come until later, as she lay alone in one of the many spare rooms at the Burrow. She had requested the one on the topmost floor, figuring that would seclude her enough from everyone that they wouldn’t ask her how she was doing._

_Hermione didn’t have an answer._

_She could hear Molly Weasley’s sobs on the floor below and Arthur’s smooth voice consoling her, although there wasn’t much he could say or do beyond just being there for her. _

_He was grieving, too. They all were._

“Hermione?” a curious, gentle voice called, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

There was Ginny Weasley, stood in the doorway to the bathroom stall. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, opening her arms. 

Hermione brushed the tears off of her cheeks and rested her chin on Ginny’s shoulder.

“How long have you been here?” Ginny asked, absentmindedly smoothing down Hermione’s hair.

“All day,” she mumbled, closing her eyes as she felt a tiredness overtake her. “When did you get here? How did you get here?”

“After Madam Rosmerta sent Harry and I an owl, saying that we should come. She told us that you’ve been sat crying and rereading that Prophet article.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I can stand to be alone in the house. Not with all of his things still there.”

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to say Ron’s name since he died.

“I know, I know. Harry and I think that you should stay with us for a few days,” Ginny suggested.

Hesitantly, Hermione nodded. She didn’t particularly want to go stay with Harry and Ginny, just because she didn’t want them to ask her a myriad of questions (although if any two people in the world knew when not to ask questions, it was Harry and Ginny). 

However, she didn’t want to go home to an empty house, either. At least, not while Ron’s stuff was still there. Not while his pillow still smelled like him.

“Okay,” she answered, feeling very small on the floor of the Three Broomsticks restroom. “But only for a few days. I don’t want to intrude on you and Harry, I know that you have wedding prep to do.”

Oh, Merlin. 

_The wedding._

She’d completely forgotten about Harry and Ginny’s wedding, which was to take place in seven months’ time, at the end of July.

Ginny, seemingly for the first time in days, cracked a smile and nodded in response.

Hermione couldn’t muster a smile of her own in return, but took her friends offered hand and together they walked out of the stall, back to table where she’d spent her day.

“Harry,” she breathed out when she saw him, throwing her arms around his neck as he stood from his chair. “How are you feeling?”

She hadn’t seen him since a few days before Ron had passed, on Christmas at the Burrow, where they’ve spent nearly every Christmas since they were at Hogwarts.

“All right,” he answered truthfully as he hugged her back. “I suspect you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Hermione’s going to stay with us for a few days,” Ginny supplied, and Harry smiled in her direction, although since it was over Hermione’s shoulder, she couldn’t see it.

“Of course. Well, suppose we should get home, then?”

“I’m sorry you both had to come pick me up and . . . that you have to see me like this.”

Harry waved a hand in her direction as the three left. “Don’t even start with that, Hermione. You know that Ginny and I will be there for you every step of the way, should you need it.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

Having been his friend for most of her life, she knew that Harry Potter didn’t say anything he didn’t mean.

Even though she was by herself in the guest room at Harry and Ginny’s, Hermione didn’t feel so alone, finally falling into a dreamless sleep after spending what felt like hours tossing and turning.


	2. february

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day. Hermione struggles with figuring herself out in the midst of grieving for Ron.

_Hermione was standing at the end of a long hallway. There were no doors, and she couldn’t see anything save for the light coming from the tip of her wand.  
_

__

__

_It was cold. She wasn’t anywhere she recognized. It was as if she was watching herself, walking along the corridor. As she moved further along, it grew colder and colder._

_At some point, water appeared beneath her feet. She tried every spell she could think of to get rid of it, but that only made the water rise. It was murky, filled with dirt, and when she put one foot in front of the other, her feet dragged along, soaking her legs and slowing her down._

_Her throat was raw from screaming, but then a door opened to her left and light flooded the hallway. The walls were lined with a forest-green tile, yet she still had no idea where she was._

_A hand yanked her into a room and the door slammed shut behind her._

_“Hermione, are you alright?” _

_It was Ron._

_Relief coursed through her as Hermione kissed him hard. She couldn’t get any words out, but she knew that she did start crying once her and Ron pulled away._

_He was alive._

_She leaned her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around him, unable to let him go._

_Just as she was about to tell him what happened, the scene shifted . . . _

_And she was staring out the window in the Gryffindor common room._

_There was a red, velvet loveseat that she would always sit at and read, with a window overlooking the Forbidden Forest._

_A book was in front of her and although her eyes skimmed the words and her fingers turned the pages, she wasn’t retaining any of the information on the page. It was as if someone handed her a Time-Turner: she was suddenly back in her fifth year, rereading what looked like _Hogwarts: A History_ for the millionth time._

_The reason she wasn’t actually reading anything on the pages in front of her was because she was too busy thinking back to the night before, when Gryffindor had won the game against Ravenclaw. There was a lively party in the common room that lasted until the early hours of the morning, and after everyone had gone to bed, she sat on the very same loveseat that she was now, staring out at the snow falling softly outside._

_The portal opened but Hermione didn’t acknowledge whoever it was that had just walked through. If she had, her heart would have warmed, and she wouldn’t have been able to help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth._

_“Hey,” a voice whispered._

_It was only when she felt someone sit down that she turned to look. It was Katie Bell, Chaser for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team._

_“Hi,” Hermione replied, smiling._

_The only source of light coming from the common room was the fire, and the orange shadow of the flames made Katie look stunning._

_Being around Katie made Hermione feel like Katie truly saw her for who she was, even though no one knew that the two of them had been seeing each other for the past few months._

_They weren’t dating, both of them had made that clear. _

_Hermione wasn’t sure what it was, but she did know that they stole kisses in dark corridors and traded secrets by firelight like they were cherished flavors of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans._

_She closed the book and set it aside. When she brushed her lips against Katie’s, she felt fire and yet she shivered, tingling with goosebumps._

She bolted upright in bed, realizing that she was covered in cold sweat. With the sun beginning to rise out the window, she paced around the guest room in Harry and Ginny’s house, trying to find meaning in all of it, in any of it.

The thing with Katie happened years ago, and she hadn’t thought about it since getting together with Ron. Yet, guilt grew in her stomach as she remembered the dream before that, the one where she kissed Ron in a room to the side of an unknown hallway. He hadn’t even been dead for two months, and there she was, recalling a kiss with him and then a kiss with her old flame in the same dream sequence.

Still, no one knew about her and Katie. She hadn’t told Ron out of fear of what he would say, and she hadn’t told Harry or Ginny for the same reason.

Honestly, that was why she still hadn’t told anyone that she was bisexual. She just didn’t know how any of them would react.

But she had kept it to herself for so long, that she felt she needed to tell someone, and she needed to tell them now. 

A glance at the clock on the wall told her that it was still really early, and Harry and Ginny wouldn’t be awake yet, so she flopped back onto the bed with a loud sigh and tried not to think about it.

That morning when she walked out into the living room, neither Harry nor Ginny were there. Hermione sat on the couch and waited, before realizing that both of them had already left for the day and she just slept through it.

This continued on several times; she would wake up while the sun was just beginning to rise and not be able to fall asleep, but would get out of bed only to find that she had fallen back asleep and that her two friends had left for work for the day.

Hermione spent all of Valentine’s Day morning lying in bed, which was something she never thought she would do. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ron and hers last Valentine’s Day, but Ginny had left a cup of tea on the bedside table along with a note, urging her to enjoy the sunny day.

She spent the afternoon wandering around Hogsmeade. The shops were full of heart-shaped things. Honeydukes was hosting a special: _buy two boxes of exploding chocolate hearts! They are sure to keep the spark alive in your romantic life!_ Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop had a line all the way out the door, couples cozying up to each other in the frosty February afternoon.

She could barely look at her surroundings as she made her way to the Three Broomsticks. She always ate there when she was in Hogsmeade, and today was no exception. 

The restaurant was so crowded that she couldn’t see an unoccupied table, but then Madam Rosmerta appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and led her to a secluded, quieter part of the shop. All of the tables were still taken, but Hermione found a table for two with one seat open.

“May I sit here?” she asked, gesturing to the empty seat.

The woman sitting there looked up. It was a Hufflepuff she vaguely remembered from her Hogwarts days.

_Hannah Abbott_, her brain supplied helpfully.

“Of course,” Hannah answered with a bright smile, her cheeks coloring a faint pink. “How have you been, Hermione?”

And that one question brought with it hours of conversation, the two women talking and laughing about everything in the candlelit corner of the Three Broomsticks.

Surely the other witch knew about Ron, but Hannah had always been so polite and kind that she probably knew Hermione wouldn’t want to talk about it.

Hermione told Hannah about a rumor she’d heard at Hogwarts, that she had been dating Neville. 

The blonde shook her head with a small smile and laughed it off, saying that nothing had gone on between the two of them. She reported that Neville and Luna had married some years earlier and were living near Luna’s childhood home.

“So,” Hannah started a while later, leaning forward with a glint mischievous, warm glint in her eye, “I’ve been wondering . . . How would you like to go back to my place?”

“Er, yeah. That sounds lovely, we could watch a movie or something.”

Hermione didn’t think about the implications behind it until she found herself kissing Hannah back at her place, not ten minutes into the movie they’d put on.

Honestly, she wasn’t thinking. Her mouth moved against Hannah’s on its own accord, and when Hannah’s fingers tangled in her hair, she didn’t protest. In fact, she leaned into it.

It felt nice: not thinking. Thinking was all she had been doing for months, overthinking and rethinking things that had happened with Ron, memories that she relived over and over. 

Suddenly, immense guilt washed over her in a wave so big she felt it all the way from her fingers to her toes.

Hannah, ever so lovely, noticed that something was wrong almost immediately and pulled away, her eyes searching Hermione’s worriedly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, Hannah. It’s just . . . well, I haven’t been with anyone in . . . some time. So, I guess I’m not really sure how to do this anymore.”

She could feel a hot blush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks, and she broke eye contact.

“It’s alright.” Her eyes glowed as she pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead.

“You know what,” Hermione said, pushing all thoughts of Ron out of her head and focusing on the woman in front of her, “We could just . . . kiss, if you want.”

And so they did.

It was nearing the end of the month when Hermione properly saw Ginny. 

“You’re looking happier today,” Ginny commented with a sweet smile, giving her wand a flick in the direction of the fireplace.

It was after dinner and the two of them were sitting at opposite ends of the living room couch. Harry was out on a late-night mission, but Hermione had seen him that morning.

“Thanks, Gin. Do you ever worry about Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“When he goes out on late, overnight missions like this. Do you ever worry that something will happen to him at work, like it did with . . .?”

She trailed off but was determined to get the words out. She had to say them, because she had to say his name sometime.

“With Ron?” her friend asked.

Hermione nodded in confirmation. “Like what happened with Ron.”

Ginny lifted one shoulder up in a shrug. “Sometimes. In the beginning more so than now, I guess. When it first happened, I would have nightmares about Harry, you know, dying in battle and I would never get to see him again. Before you came to stay with us, he would wake up to me tossing and turning. It would take me hours to fall back asleep, but I eventually was able to sleep through the night.”

“How? I feel like I can’t do anything without thinking of Ron, and if I do, then I feel guilty.”

“I just realized that he does this because it’s his job and he loves it. There’s nothing I can do to stop him because he’s always done what he wants to, not to mention I wouldn’t want to. Harry would never stop me from playing Quidditch, because it’s what I love to do. He’s been nothing but supportive, so I try to do the same. Why do you feel guilty? It’s good to not constantly think of Ron. He wouldn’t want that for you. You should do what makes you happy.”

“You’re right. It’s just hard. I lay awake at night and think of all the happy memories we created, even though I know it’s not the best to constantly be living in the past. It’s tricky because part of me doesn’t want to move on, I feel stuck to this life I’ve created for myself now. I’m not who I used to be, but I want to be that girl again. The one who wasn’t so afraid of anything.”

_Oh, and by the way, I’m bisexual_, she wanted to add, but she didn’t.

“How do I do that, Ginny?”

“As much as I would like to, I can’t answer that for you. Grief affects people in different ways, and sometimes it takes time to figure out who you are and what you want." She paused and tilted her head. "Do you believe in soulmates, Hermione?”

“I don’t know. I thought I did, but then Ron . . . passed away, and all of that changed.”

“See, I don’t believe that each person has just one. There can be all different kinds of soulmates: friends, family, but that’s not what we’re focusing on, so I’ll just stick to the romantic type of soulmate. Each person falls in love, but then they get their heart broken. It happens to mostly everyone, and it’s a natural process. I believe that you have to go through heartbreak because it teaches you that you are going to be strong again, that you are going to love again. That you can live without that person because you have lived without them before, and you can do it again. You, dear Hermione, are stronger than you know. I can tell you that a thousand times but it’s only something you yourself can know.”

Hermione stayed quiet, processing Ginny’s words. Eventually, she smiled and reached across the couch to grab her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, I really needed to hear that. And I do think that I need to figure it out on my own. Ron and I were together for eight years, and I’m not expecting my grief over his passing to just go away.”

Her friend nodded and squeezed her hand back. “And that’s good, you are allowed to grieve. Grief is a tricky thing, Hermione; people deal with it in different ways. When Fred died, I would talk to George about it every night. We’d sit by the fireplace long after everyone had gone to bed. And I’d talk about it only with George, because even though he was working through it differently, we were both having the same experience. When Ron died, I would talk to Harry every night before we fell asleep. Talking about it, remembering them and talking with the people closest to me about them, really helped me. All that to say, while that helped me, that might not work for you. You just need to figure out what does.”

A long, loud sigh filled the otherwise silent air. “I think I need a break, honestly. Not that staying with you and Harry hasn’t been nice, but I don’t want to inconvenience you. I want to go somewhere where I’m not constantly reminded of Ron, where I don’t lie awake at night and think about him.”

Ginny smiled softly. “I know, and I wish I could help you. Just so you know, you can stay here as long as you need. I mean that. You’re like a sister to me, and you are to Harry, as well. And you’re more than welcome to talk about this with either of us. I can see how much talking to me has helped you already.”

“It really has, I’m glad that you’re here for me to talk to. For now, I’m going to head off to bed, it’s been a long day. Goodnight, Ginny.”

“Goodnight.”

Hermione paused, so desperately wanting, to tell Ginny about what had happened with Hannah, but then turned and walked to the guest room where she’d been staying. She wasn’t even sure where to begin, and despite the fact that the words I’m bisexual were ready to burst out of her, she was so terrified of saying them.

As she lay in bed that night while the moon hung high in the sky and a creature howled far away, she realized that she could just say it. Just come out, and it would be out there. It was going to have to happen sometime, but she wasn’t going to force herself to, either.

She would come out when the time was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> This story is like writing a piece of my heart, but I love it so much and I'm so thankful for those of you that are taking the time you read. This was also a very personal chapter for me, but it is one of my favorite things I've written. 
> 
> That being said, please feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments. And we'll be meeting a certain French witch in the next chapter, so stay tuned for that! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic for Fleur and Hermione, although I have been reading them for a while. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


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